


Castles in the Dark

by cuethesun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Arranged Marriage DaiYui, Bottom Kuroo, Day 02: Night, Feudal Japan AU, KuroDai Week 2020, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Daichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethesun/pseuds/cuethesun
Summary: In the night, they were different people.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 64
Collections: KuroDai Week 2020





	Castles in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second entry for KuroDai Week 2020. The themes for Day 02 were Day and Night, and I chose Night. This takes place in feudal Japan in the Sengoku period, and Daichi and Tetsurou are warlords. Nekoma and Karasuno are the feuds where they live, and the other team players are vassals to them. 
> 
> Homosexuality was socially accepted in feudal Japan, but only in certain places and roles; the problem here has more to do with the fact that they're both lords, that they're actually in love and not just scratching an itch, that Daichi is married, and that neither of them fit into those traditional roles.

Sawamura Daichi, exiled lord of Karasuno, waited until his wife’s eyes were closed before he opened his own.

He laid awake in the dark a while longer, listening as her breath evened out in sleep. His gaze lingered on the finer traces of her expression; in slumber, Yui looked peaceful.

Throughout the whole affair — the battle, the injury, the desperate flight from banners in white and turquoise —, she had been nothing short of a miracle, always with a smile on her face and a word to help them forward. It was not the life she had been promised, but no word of complaint ever made it past her lips. Her strength fed into his own.

If only he could love her as well as she deserved.

Once he was sure she would not be disturbed, he rose to his feet and, as silently as he could, left the room.

He took care not to make any noise as he followed down the corridor, mindful of servants still awake. In fact, he could hear loud voices and laughter; most likely Tanaka and Nishinoya, who had found themselves an accomplice in the young Lord Yamamoto and were very much thrilled about it. He would have to have a word with them about acceptable levels of noise at the late hours of the night.

But not right then. He had something far more significant to do.

He sneaked past their room and to the end of the corridor, then up a set of stairs and towards a room with large screen doors, and a pair of clever brown eyes.

“He is waiting for you, Sawamura-dono,” the Lord Kai said, expression neutral but for the slightest twist of the corner of his mouth.

He had been wary of the man at first, unsure how to act before someone who held the secret of his greatest weakness, but time spent by his side had cooled the most urgent of his apprehensions. Kai had never said a word, either in judgment or in sympathy, and, in the daylight, treated him with all the respect an ally of the master of Nekoma Castle was due.

The condemnation he kept seeing in those eyes? Most likely the mirrors of his own shame.

“See to it that we are not disturbed,” the former Lord of Karasuno asked.

At Kai’s answering nod, he entered the moon-gazing room.

It was a night of crescent, and all the windows were wide open; the moonlight bathed everything in silver, especially the lone figure in the center of the room. Sprawled there, a sliver of fair skin peeking from the opening of his yukata and a smirk on his face, Tetsurou looked like a visitor from the spirit world.

“I thought you would not come.”

Daichi snorted. The possibility had never entered his mind. “I thought I had warned you about how easy of a target you become when you open all the windows here.”

The smirk grew wider. “What is life without a little danger?”

Tetsurou had likely said it in jest — he was the sort of man who shook bushes to see the snakes coming out —, but it brought remembrance, something of a bitter taste to Daichi’s mouth. He was not given time to brood on it, however; the other man grasped his wrist and pulled him down.

He found himself sitting comfortably enveloped in a pair of strong arms, Tetsurou’s chest pressed to his back. There was a clack as his host served the sake one-handed; the cup that rose to his lips was dripping with the liquor.

The first sip tasted of skin, and it filled him with warmth.

Tetsurou’s other hand came up, rubbing Daichi’s brow. “Why are there new wrinkles here every night?”

Daichi did not have any compunction in hitting the man’s side with his elbow. “Maybe you are making me old before my time.”

“ _Slander_.” Daichi could almost _hear_ the smirk on Tetsurou’s voice. “I have been nothing but well-behaved lately.”

“You forget I saw you laughing when I lost the horse race to Hinata and Kageyama. Sounded like an ass braying.”

“I did _not_. And you have to admit it was comical.”

“I have nothing to admit to the person who was at fault to begin with.”

“How was _I_ at fault?”

“Why do you think I tarried? When I tried to make my horse gallop, my backside—”

That same kind of laughter, loud and annoying, burst next to his ear, and Daichi smothered his own inside his chest; he did not need to encourage Tetsurou’s antics any further.

He could not conceal, however, the way he trembled when the other man spoke, “Perhaps we can change places, if you are so inclined.”

“…Are you sure?”

Tetsurou leaned his chin on Daichi’s shoulder, with a smile soft as silk. “Of course.”

“…Bokuto-dono is to arrive in the morning.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“I have seen his pastimes, and yours. Are you that confident, facing his shinai when you yourself are—”

“Have you so little faith on me?” Tetsurou’s voice was tinged with hilarity. “I can defeat him with one hand tied behind my back. You need not fret.”

“I am always fretting over you.”

“And I am always repeating there is no need for it, I have enough minders already. If anything, I should be the one fretting over _you_.”

He enforced the argument by sliding a hand inside Daichi’s yukata, over the wound on his shoulder.

The lesion had closed, at last; the new skin was swollen and pink, tender to the touch. It still hurt, a quiet ache that sometimes kept him from sleep, and the surgeon did not know whether he would regain complete use of the arm — although he supposed he was lucky not to have lost it. When Tetsurou’s fingers ran over the scars, they sent ghosts of prickly sensation that reached all the way to his chest.

It was undeniable evidence of the life the two of them led in the daylight, of the frailty of Daichi’s circumstances, and even though he had resolved to leave those thoughts at the door of the moon-gazing room, he felt his mouth burn with them.

“I can only ask your forgiveness,” he started, “for putting you in this position, having to protect me and my—”

“Stop it _,_ ” Tetsurou cut him, seeming truly irritated for the first time that night. “You are not at fault, so there is nothing to forgive. Or did you take an arrow to the shoulder on purpose?”

They had had this conversation many times before, and yet Daichi could never truly escape the idea of it. Yes, he had not invited Oikawa’s army into Karasuno, or asked to be injured in battle — strictly speaking, he had not even asked his vassals to flee towards Nekoma, having fallen unconscious when thrown off his horse. Still, he should have been able to protect his people, and the notion of having failed them, of languishing in exile while Oikawa used his castle as glorified bait in his war against Ushijima…

The other man’s hands on his arms interrupted his pondering, forcing him to turn over so they were face to face.

“If I could, I would cover you in silks and fine jewelry and anything else you liked,” Tetsurou started. “You could stay here, or — or in any place you liked, any place close to me. I would take you to the fields—”

“—Tetsu—”

“— _I would take you_ to the fields, and we would lay on the ground, and I would make love to you in the light of day. And inside the castle too, anywhere we wished, any _time_ we wished. And at night, I would have you in my bed, and we would sleep — just sleep, because it would not be the only moments we had together.” Tetsurou’s eyes, the color of honey, seemed to shine in the dark room. “You would not want for anything.”

“…We can’t.”

“I _know_. I know that.” One hand ran through untidy black hair, wrecking it even further. “What I mean to say is that I would do much more for you if I could. What I can do… I do it gladly.”

Daichi raised his hand to cup that face, the one that meant the world for him; the skin was warm and smooth under his fingers.

“Let me take care of you,” Tetsurou asked, and Daichi kissed him.

Their mouths met with no finesse involved, as if they were starved of each other. Tetsurou parted his lips at Daichi’s silent plea, and let himself be explored, their tongues crossing in a fight neither wanted to win.

He tasted much the same as he did when they were sixteen, sharing hidden kisses in closed spaces, but Daichi wanted _more_ — he always, always wanted more, with an endless sort of hunger, one that had him planting marks with mouth and teeth in every bit of skin he could reach — and earning little cries with each blooming bruise, Tetsurou’s nails digging into his back, leaving red welts that would have everyone thinking they had been to the whores — and Daichi would not regret it, _could not_ regret it.

The world had narrowed down to that room, and that body.

Tetsurou smelled like the incense he favored, and, as Daichi moved downwards, rice bran and sweat; he could not resist proving from it, tonguing his navel and the coarse trail of hair that led to his crotch — and ignoring the ceramic bottle being pushed at his thigh.

“I do not need it yet,” he said, with a smirk.

Tetsurou answered with something like a whine. “Oh Lord have mercy.”

“The journey is often more rewarding than the arrival,” Daichi said, pulling off the white undercloth. “Besides, once Bokuto-dono is here, he will demand your attention all the time — I must stake my claim before.”

“You seem — unusually worried about — about Bokuto,” Tetsurou drawled, eyebrows waggling; the effect was a little lost by how his voice kept breaking in the middle. “Should I be—?”

“You should _not_ ,” Daichi said, and enforced the argument with a sharp nip above the man’s hipbone. “Raise your legs.”

“Neither should you,” Tetsurou said, but did as he was told. “If I need any time with you — _ah_ — all I need to do is sic Akaashi on him.”

Daichi was distracted from a retort by finally uncovering the other man’s cock; it was hard already, flushed a deeper shade of the red that ran all over Tetsurou’s skin, and Daichi almost forgot himself — but remembered at the last minute, and avoided it entirely to aim at Tetsurou’s inner thigh.

The resulting sound was definitely a whine. “Are you having fun tormenting me?” Tetsurou tried to say, the last word dissolving into a soft moan when Daichi bit into the pliant flesh.

“How can I stop myself, when you make such delightful sounds?”

“I would make many more delightful sounds if you just took advantage of what I am offering _already_.”

That made Daichi choke laughter against Tetsurou’s crotch — to pleasurable effects, if the whimper that followed was a sign. Relenting, his own longing difficult to bear, Daichi caught the ceramic bottle and poured the contents in his hand.

He still found the smell of the mixture a little weird, but he agreed with Tetsurou that it helped things along a lot; the fact that it could be found in the castle’s kitchens was another boon. With an arm, he folded one of the other man’s legs, keeping it up with his own body; with the other, jelly-coated hand, he stroked along the rim of Tetsurou’s hole.

This part of the proceedings was always a little painful, and Daichi could tell the other man’s slight distress from the frown he was trying to hide. He shifted until he could wrap his hand around Tetsurou’s cock and jerk it — slowly, but full of purpose. The hazel eyes rolled in pleasure, and it was suddenly easy to push one finger in to the second knuckle.

He rubbed the inner walls, marveling at that warmth, at the way those muscles trembled and gave in under his touch; he was soon able to slip two fingers within, spreading them apart just to see Tetsurou’s hole suck them in.

“ _Daichi,”_ the other man spoke, tight and urgent. Daichi looked up; the look on Tetsurou’s face was like a snake poised to strike. “Now.”

He was surprised he could still speak evenly. “The night is still young. No reason to hurry.”

“ _Yes_ , there _is,_ the reason is that I am currently _dy_ — _fuck!”_ , and Tetsurou’s complaints turned into a string of stifled curses as Daichi found the nub inside of him.

One of Tetsurou’s heels dug into Daichi’s back as he worked three fingers in, pushing right against that spot that made him moan and babble, words with barely any meaning — _more, yes, please_ — but for the underlying current of _want._ He batted away Daichi’s other hand — the one working on his cock —, then pulled him down by his yukata.

Teeth bared, eyes blazing, Tetsurou looked wild as the cats that were the symbol of his clan. “ _Now._ ”

It would be easier to sprout wings than to resist that tone of voice.

Daichi disrobed quickly, hissing when the air finally hit his own forgotten cock. The remnants of the jelly were used to slick himself up; his stronger arm kept Tetsurou’s hip still while he lined himself up with the other hand.

He slid in with one smooth movement.

Immediately his head was filled with white, so intense he feared it was already over; but, as he opened his eyes, he found himself still inside, still hard, all his senses filled with Tetsurou, Tetsurou, _Tetsurou_ — the heat and the tightness around him, his scent and taste, his own unfortunate, helpless love beating hard in his chest. He invaded Tetsurou’s mouth with his tongue as they pressed their bodies together, as close as they could, until the other man started hitting his back with a fist.

“Do it, Daichi, _fuck,_ just—”

And Daichi did it — again helpless to resist the command, but with enough presence of mind to start to an unhurried pace, letting the other man adjust before moving faster. Like that, he could watch himself drive in and out of Tetsurou’s hole, see the way it looked stretched around his cock; it was a sight he would keep long after their unavoidable parting.

He twisted this way and that, trying to find the right position, feeling Tetsurou’s whole body shiver when he did; the flesh enveloping him became impossibly tighter, like the arms and legs wrapped around him — and they crashed together, rhythm building up in perfect consonance to the harsh breaths and strangled gasps that escaped their mouths.

Tetsurou’s back was arching up as Daichi pushed into him, like an invitation to go deeper, and Daichi would like nothing more than to carve his shelter underneath his lover’s ribcage and stay there until the end of time, just the two of them and the pleasure singing through his frame.

But nothing really lasted forever, and soon the pressure started to build up in his balls, every snap of his hips making a sharp sound against Tetsurou’s backside as he started to lose control of his motions. He could also see the signs of Tetsurou’s own imminent release in the stream of pleas falling freely from his lips, feeding Daichi’s hunger like a physical touch.

Staring intently at Tetsurou’s face, he reached down for the other man’s cock.

The result was almost immediate — eyes rolled back, mouth open in a wordless shout, as ribbons of white spattered against their stomachs. Tetsurou’s muscles relaxed, his arms and legs sprawled; Daichi had to hold onto him as he thrust hard and fast, chasing his own end in a body he could never ever let go.

And, surprisingly, Tetsurou had not stopped speaking; was still babbling in Daichi’s ear even as he trembled with relief. “Daichi, yes, do it, do it _,_ you fuck me _so good,_ no one else does it like you, please, _please_ —”

And it was that thought — the thought of _no one else_ — that finally broke the dam, and had him spilling inside Tetsurou.

Daichi’s own limbs felt like liquid, and it was all he could do not to crush the other man as he fell on top of him — without success, if the _“oof_ ” he heard was anything to go by. His cock escaped Tetsurou’s entrance with a squelch, and even the dimming pleasure in his veins was not enough to distract him from his lover’s wince.

“You told me to go faster,” Daichi said accusatorily.

“I know I did,” Tetsurou said, his voice tight as he looked away. “No need for minders, remember?”

“ _I_ remember,” Daichi countered, reaching out for the cool towels set aside; now that the bliss was fading, the dull ache in his shoulder was making itself known again. “It would do _you_ some good to remember that too.”

He wiped the seed off himself cursorily, then moved on to Tetsurou’s legs and stomach; he kept his touch gentle, looking for traces of blood and examining the bruises he had left in his wake.

There were several.

He breathed in sharply — only to feel Tetsurou’s cold fingers on his brow.

“Amazing,” he said, a light smile on the corner of his mouth. “I can actually _feel_ the wrinkles forming.”

Daichi tried to bat him away, but Tetsurou caught his hand; he brought it close to himself, reaching out to run the other hand through Daichi’s hair. The fondness in his face made something burst inside Daichi.

“I hurt you,” he said.

“Just a little. And I wanted you to.”

“Why would you want me to?”

In answer, Tetsurou slid his hand over Daichi’s back, pressing against the scratches he himself had made. It stung, but Daichi did not turn away from it; he leaned into the fingers, savoring this idea of Tetsurou still inside his skin.

“I want you to think of me in the morning,” Tetsurou said quietly. “And I am sure I will think of you.”

Daichi had to concede the point.

They lingered a little, sharing soft kisses and some whispered conversation; but the night moved on, and, as the sky started changing color, the need to return became impossible to ignore.

Daichi rose first; he always did rise first. He adjusted his underclothes and his yukata, checking his blurry reflection on the wooden floor — and then whirled around for Tetsurou’s inspection. “Am I — do I look—?”

“Not a hair out of place,” the other man drawled. “You look very dignified, Sawamura-dono.”

He had just barely thrown the yukata over his naked body, tied it loosely around his waist, looking very much like the Tetsurou of his nights; but his arms were crossed in front of his body, and Daichi could actually see his expression closing off, the smirk moving from playful to shielding.

Daichi did not know what to tell that man, so he did not say anything; he nodded his head perfunctorily, and left the room without goodbye.

Kai was still guarding outside; the Lord’s first instinct was to go past him without acknowledgement — but he could not afford to ignore his position anymore, and he stopped. “Is everything all right?”

“Quite fine, my lord,” Kai remarked. “Is the meeting finished?”

Giving what they had just done such a simple epithet made the Lord’s hands shake, but he concurred. “I will be retiring for the night.”

“I shall see to Kuroo-dono, then.”

“Please do so.”

It should have been it — his last conversation of the night — except that he heard footsteps before he could make the turn at the end of the corridor, and a voice called his name.

“Sawamura.”

With the dangerous smile and predatory posture, the figure outside the room was all Kuroo-dono, the mirror image of something the former Lord of Karasuno could never have.

“What is it?”

“I shall call on you to welcome Bokuto and his men in the morning.” Not a plea, but an order; one that the Lord Sawamura did not wish to go against, but an order nonetheless.

He was very grateful to that figure; without him, he would not have survived, and his vassals would probably have followed him in death. He was able to keep that in mind in the light of day and act as he was supposed to — offer advice and even banter in good humor.

But, at this late hour, seeing him hurt.

“…Very well,” he agreed, and left.

He made his way down the corridor, taking care not to make any noise with heavy steps; thankfully, Tanaka and Nishinoya were already fast asleep, if the snores echoing around the castle were anything to go by. He would talk to them in the morning.

In his quarters, Yui was still breathing evenly, peaceful in slumber; she did not wake when he entered, or when he stopped by the side of the futon. She did curl up to him when he was under the covers, but, aside from a small murmur, showed no other signs of rousing.

The first lights of dawn were shining inside the room; in a few hours, he would have to rise to talk with his vassals and greet the incoming guests, and he needed to rest as much as he could.

Sawamura Daichi, the former Lord of Karasuno, closed his eyes and tried to cast the night away as he drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> What did I learn with this fic? The history of lube, that's what. 
> 
> My Tumblr is @altumvidetur, if you want to see some fic recs. Please check everyone's works at @kurodai-week!


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